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Someone Like You

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They say that time heals all wounds. I beg to differ. Time creates scabs over the wounds, protecting them from the outside world. But scabs only work for so long. They eventually begin to peel, exposing that pink flesh underneath them that is so, so tender. And when you accidentally bump that skin, or cut it, the wound reopens, only ten times worse.



Maybe it’s just a girl thing; blame the hormones all you want. Sure, girls put on a happy face every day. But have you ever stopped to wonder, just how much of it is an act? I am a guidance counselor’s nightmare. I am the type of person who bottles up their emotions and stores them away in the farthest corners of my mind, letting them simmer and bubble until I have reached my maximum limit. And let me tell you…when those emotions finally do break the surface, it’s ugly.



I guess this is kind of how my story starts. Well, not really. But it’s where it culminates…somewhere in the middle of all the other stuff. Okay…where the story really starts is back when life was easy. Not easy as in the two plus two math problem easy, but the easy as in no drama easy. Back when girls and guys could be friends and not have everyone assume they were together. Back when everyone was friends, and the types of clothes they wore didn’t matter. Back when makeup didn’t exist in our worlds…when we didn’t even know how to put on mascara. Back when none of us had cell phones and thought that texting was some futuristic mumbo-jumbo. Back when drama was meant for people in high-school, and when it was something we swore we would never create.



Ahh…I found the source of our problem. Drama. I guess I should stop boring you with my rants…but I think you’ll begin to understand them after you hear my story.
Elementary School



Elementary school…otherwise known as the golden days. At least in my book. The glorious days where nothing mattered besides being kind and friendly to everyone. Okay, maybe not everyone.



It all started the first day of fourth grade. New class, new people (sort of) and new teacher. Our teacher, Mrs. Thomas, made her first mistake of the year…putting Paige, Kirra, Raygen, and I in a group.
“Hey…so…how was your summer?” I asked tentatively, not quite sure what to say.
(You see, Raygen and I had been friends for pretty much our whole lives by now. Kirra and Paige on the other hand, have completely different stories…ones that don’t pertain to the one I am trying to tell now.)
“It was pretty good. I went swimming a lot.” Paige said. “And played a lot of soccer.” She added as an afterthought.
“Oh my gosh! You play soccer! Seriously…no way!” I screeched.



This led into a long discussion on soccer, and how Paige and I loved it, and Raygen and Kirra saw absolutely no point in it whatsoever. From that moment on, the four of us were inseparable. As the day went on, two new members were added to our “group”…Meghan and Emily. By the end of the day, we had decided that we would never…and I mean never, stop being friends.



This friendship carried on throughout fourth and fifth grade. Everything was peachy…we all laughed together and cried together. Meghan ended up moving…which was one of those days we cried. Sure, we got in petty little fights about whom wanting to sit where, what we wanted to do that day at recess, and so on so forth. On the last day of fifth grade, at THE LAST lunch recess we would EVER have in elementary school, Paige pulled me and the rest of us aside, and told us something that I still haven’t forgotten to this day.
“You guys, I want you to know something. Never, and I mean NEVER, will I turn into a Barbie. I will never wear makeup, I will never wear jeans, I will NEVER wear Aeropostale, and I will never, ever, do my hair in the morning! I want you all to remember that so if I do start to do these things, you’ll stop me.”



We all nodded solemnly, storing this conversation off into some part of the brain. Now this is probably THE most important event that will happen in this story. To understand why…you need to understand Paige.




Paige was a tomboy. Not just a “normal” tomboy, but a full on MAJOR tomboy. She refused to wear anything but athletic shorts to school and sweatpants in the winter. She wouldn’t even CONSIDER stepping foot into an Aeropostale store. She didn’t know the difference between mascara and a flat iron. She and I would play football with the guys every day, and yes, we ran all over them. We were the best of friends…and anyone could see that.




I have to say, that I miss those days just about as much as I have ever missed anything in my life. Those were the days that you didn’t have to worry about what other people thought about. We all had at least one thing in common…the need to go to middle school.



It wasn’t a want…it had escalated into a need. We NEEDED to get out of elementary school…to grow up. We needed to meet new people, new teachers, new EVERYTHING! And we did. Not only did we meet new people from different schools, but I also met a new person. Someone I had never imagined in my life I would meet…Paige.



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